A Badger's Vengeance
by beaute-ephemere
Summary: He looked at her, a peculiar look upon his face. "Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." - Houses Competition Round 5


**House: Slytherin**

 **Category: Themed**

 **Prompts: Madam Hooch**

 **Word count: 4979**

.oOo.

Rolanda Adelaide Selwyn was certain that the 18th of February 1901 was the worst day of her mother's life. It was the day Rolanda was born, the failure of a daughter who hated being a pure-blood. Rolanda hated having to know even the most obscure of etiquette rules. She hated having to learn the name of every cousin, every aunt, every uncle, every grandparent. She hated having to wear a corset and satin gloves. She hated every aspect of pure-blood society, but that didn't mean she didn't try.

She tried to sit still at the dinner table. It didn't help that the dining-room chairs were so uncomfortable. She tried to keep her robes in perfect condition. It didn't help that little girls were only allowed to wear white. She tried to be perfect. She never managed.

It was the summer of 1912, and Rolanda sat in the drawing room with her cousins. She was due to start her first year at Hogwarts that year with her second cousin, Cantankerous Nott. Her sisters, Pandora and Cressida, were due to start their fifth and third years respectively while her cousin Rigel would start his seventh. The Travers twins, first cousins once removed, Yvonne and Ophelia, had already graduated earlier that year. Dione, the "baby" of the family, hadn't even received her letter yet.

"I still can't believe you became Head Boy!" Yvonne cried. "I had a perfect record. Perfect, I tell you! And then, Violetta Bulstrode got Head Girl. It was so unfair! I mean, she was already a prefect!"

Rigel smirked, smug as always. While he didn't boast outright about his position, he had been more insufferable than usual as of late, a distinct air of superiority about him.

Ophelia sighed. "You're a Slytherin. No one gets any authority in _that_ House without breaking the rules."

"Honestly, 'Vonne. I got that lovely, shiny, 'P' badge this year, and I'm sure it's because I charmed the 1st floor toilets to explode when used," Pandora added. Though she would never admit to such misdeeds in polite company, between the four walls of the drawing room, the girl behaved like the teenager she was; giggling, bragging and scheming.

Cressida pouted. "That sent Esmé to the Hospital Wing."

Cantankerous laughed. "Poor Esmé. Is she better now?" he cooed.

Cressida stuck out her tongue. Dione giggled. "She came at Yule, silly! Of course she's better! You're such a llama-poop head," the little girl said.

As Cantankerous began to chase her round the room, feigning anger at her name-calling, the clock chimed 11 o'clock.

Yvonne and Ophelia stood up simultaneously. "Time for us to go," Ophelia announced. Once the twins had left, long skirts trailing behind them, the conversation turned to more important matters: the Sorting Ceremony.

"What house do you think I'll be in, Rigellus?" Cantankerous enquired.

"Hufflepuff." The younger boy blanched. "Just kidding, little cous'," Rigel laughed. "Just refrain from calling me that absurd name at Hogwarts. Ever."

"I want to be in Slytherin," Nott declared.

"Me too!" Dione cried. "Just like Cressie!"

"I'd like to go there too..." Rolanda said softly.

"Don't mumble. It's unbecoming," Pandora reprimanded, her voice suddenly cold.

Rolanda blushed as red as the Gryffindor Crest. The others kept talking, but she wasn't listening. Her sister was right. Selwyns didn't mumble.

Two nights later, the annual August Selwyn Ball was held. The second Rolanda entered the room, her aunt Sacharissa came to greet her. "Hullo, darling!"

"Good evening, aunt," Rolanda said politely.

Sacharissa handed her niece a round box. "It's for you. Open it."

Thanking her, Rolanda opened the box, revealing a number of small vials. She looked up at her aunt quizzically.

"Beauty potions," the woman explained. "They'll do you good."

Plastering a false smile on her face to hide her hurt feelings, the young girl excused herself. She knew she wasn't pretty. Her pale complexion made her look sickly. Her thin, mousy brown hair didn't do her any favours. Her figure left much to be desired. However, she didn't need reminding. Cressida and Pandora were never given cosmetic potions. They were already perfect. Rolanda, on the other hand, "needed all the help she could get", as her mother had so tactfully put it. In the end, it was just another thing that separated her from her pureblood-princess sisters.

.oOo.

The next day, Rolanda boarded the Hogwarts Express. Her cousins chatted idly, but she didn't hear a word of what they were saying. She was so nervous she almost forgot her trunk. The train ride didn't ease her nerves, and she was trembling so much she almost fell in the Great Lake as she boarded one of the small rowboats. However, the nausea Rolanda felt when she entered the Great Hall was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

The Sorting Hat burst into song, but the girl didn't remember any of it. Then, the first student was called.

"Abbott, Hestia!"

A rosy-cheeked girl with a blonde plait stumbled out of the crowd, put on the hat, which covered her eyes, and sat down. After a moment's pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

Names were called, one after the after. "Fawley, Catheryne!" was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Gaunt, Morfin!" was sorted into Slytherin. He looked severely deranged. _That's what inbreeding does, folks_ , thought Rolanda.

"Nott, Cantankerous!" was called, and the boy at her side made his way to the stool. The hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Pullman, Adolphus!" followed her cousin to Salazar's House, "Quartz, Anastasia!" went to Hufflepuff, "Rawckle, Sharon!" went to Gryffindor, and then "Selwyn, Rolanda" was called.

Trying to walk as straight as possible without throwing up, Rolanda stepped forward. The last thing she saw before the hat was placed on her head was Rigel, Pandora, Cressida and Cantankerous looking up at her. She was somewhat the black sheep of the family, after all. Not as pretty as the others. Not as strong as the others. Not as smart as the others. Not as _good_ as the others. They were waiting to see if she was one of them, after all.

Rolanda waited with them.

Then, she heard a small voice in her ear. "Where should I put you?"

She gripped the edge of the stool and thought, "Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin. Please."

"Slytherin, eh? With all the ambitious, selfish, cunning people? Those who aren't afraid of using others if it benefits them?"

"Yes, please."

"But do you want to be a Slytherin, or do you want to be a Selwyn?"

"A Selwyn."

"Is your name not Rolanda Adelaide Selwyn?"

"Yes."

"Then you are already a Selwyn, silly child. Let's find out where you _really_ belong, now. You don't have a bad mind, however, academics aren't your forté, are they? They bore you beyond belief. No, Ravenclaw would not be suited to you."

Her heart sank. Ravenclaw would've been acceptable. It was Slytherin's sister house, after all. However, the hat was not finished, far from it.

"You do not seek individual glory. You seek to prove yourself, but there are more ways than one to do that. I fear that in Gryffindor, you would find your Housemates to be reckless, idiotic, glory-seekers. It is not the place for you. You work better in teams. I must admit, I think you would do well in Hufflepuff. Kind, loyal and hardworking. Those are all qualities that you value immensely."

"Slytherin. Please." It was all she could think, a desperate last attempt to save herself. She wanted to cry. Not Hufflepuff.

"Very well, then."

She breathed a sigh of relief, but the hat still wasn't finished.

"Very well," it repeated. "I don't like putting students in Houses they dislike, but I have no choice. Slytherins never plead, dear."

Before she could form another coherent thought, the hat had been pulled from her head, and a single word was ringing through the Great Hall.

Hufflepuff.

She was going to be sick. She really was. But she still got up. She walked to the table on the far right, and didn't let her legs tremble. She held her chin high. Her father had always taught her not to show her vulnerability. But would her father still be able to look her in the eyes? Cressida and Pandora certainly didn't seem to be able to. They refused to meet her gaze.

As Rolanda sat down, she wondered if she would actually be disowned. She mentally chastised herself. _Don't be absurd,_ she thought. _People don't disown their children for their school houses. You're different, that's all. You've always been the black sheep of the family_. She laughed bitterly to herself. _Black and yellow sheep now._

She wanted to talk to her new Housemates, but she didn't. She knew the pranks her siblings and cousins had played on them–pranks that were much closer to bullying than they admitted. She recognised a fifth year, Jessica Brighton, a few seats down. She had a scar on her neck from Pandora- Rolanda remembered her sister bragging about it.

That night, Rolanda cried herself to sleep. The next day, she skipped breakfast, avoiding her mother's owl, surely carrying a letter filled with thinly veiled disappointment. She sat alone at the back of the classroom. Her cousins didn't approach her, and she knew better than to attempt contact. She skipped lunch as well, preferring to study in the library, determined to prove herself through good grades. In the evening, she ate in the kitchens, again alone.

Each day got a little easier though. She settled into a routine: she skipped meals, she studied, she was ignored by her family. Then she cried herself to sleep. Her grades were good, but others' were better. The Abbott and Fawley girls', for example. They were purebloods, but they had a history in Hufflepuff, so it was fine– they were still perfect.

One day, Hestia Abbott approached her.

"How do you do?" she enquired.

"How do _you_ do?" Rolanda replied, following pureblood etiquette.

They conversed for a few moments before Hestia led Rolanda to the Fawley girl's side.

"Rolanda, I'd like to introduce you to Catheryne Fawley. Catheryne, this is Rolanda Selwyn," she said politely.

Catheryne nodded. After a few moments, she said, "You'll excuse me, I'm sure," before returning to her embroidery. Hestia then began to talk about fashion and other mundane topics.

The Selwyn girl was bored by the conversation; she had had so many identical ones in her lifetime. She made some more idle small talk with the blonde Abbott, thinking about how rude Catheryne was being, not even bothering to do the same, before excusing herself as well, and promising to have dinner with them that evening. Hestia had insisted, after all.

That evening, Rolanda entered the Great Hall for the first time since her Sorting. She had no desire to be surrounded by disapproving family members, and she had even less of a desire to eat with Catheryne and Hestia. But she did. She was hardly in her family's good graces after becoming a Hufflepuff, but hanging out with the "right sort of people" would definitely help her image.

Rolanda stayed at school over the Christmas holidays, to "study". In reality, she only wanted to avoid the disappointed stares and tight-lipped smiles. She knew she couldn't do it forever, but she planned on putting it off as long as possible. Instead, she studied and worked to keep her mind off it, but she finished nineteenth in her year. Out of forty. It was hardly brilliant.

In the end, the summer of 1913 came and went. The disappointment came as well, but it never left. Her sisters talked to her at home, but made it clear to keep her distance in public. Rolanda's second year passed much the same as her first, though she learned to cast a silencing charm. No one needed to know she still cried herself to sleep. She grew close to Prune Macmillan, a pure-blood first-year. Together, Fawley, Macmillan, Abbott and Selwyn formed a powerful quartet. They stayed Hufflepuffs, however, and the Slytherins still held them in rather low regard. The other three didn't care much. Rolanda felt more lonely than ever.

When the summer of 1914 arrived, everything was shattered. The Great War may have been a Muggle conflict, but it deeply affected the Wizarding World. Rigel was asked by Minister Evermonde himelf to help protect the Statute of Secrecy by infiltrating the ranks of soldiers, neutralising undercover wizards. Even though it broke his mother's heart, he couldn't refuse to serve his country.

The night before his departure, Rolanda couldn't sleep. She went to the kitchens to fetch a snack, but found it to already be occupied. Her cousin sat on the cold tile floor, staring into nothingness.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

He nodded, not trusting his own voice. She slid down next to him, and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"I'm scared," he confessed.

"You'll do amazing, you know. You're destined for greatness," she whispered.

He looked at her, a peculiar look upon his face. "Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved," he said quietly.

His comment perplexed Rolanda. She knew the words, but why her cousin spoke them was beyond her. As the Selwyn heir, he wouldbe great. He _had_ to be. As for her, she'd have to become some kind of society wife.

Suddenly tired, she rested her head upon his shoulder and drifted into a deep slumber. When she awoke, Rigel had left, but his words still rang through her head.

 _Destiny is no matter of chance._

Rolanda hadn't been very close to Rigel, but she missed him more than she could imagine. His words inspired her.

.oOo.

That year, she became bolder. She spoke her mind a little. She deigned to converse with Muggle-borns. She didn't really believe in blood purity, anyway. Maybe she could change her own destiny. Maybe her life didn't have to be what other people wanted it and expected it to be. Her sisters, especially Pandora, didn't approve of the change. She ignored them.

Just before Halloween, something big happened. Pandora got engaged to Caelum Rosier. He gave her the most expensive ring Hogwarts had seen. Rolanda was walking down an almost-empty hallway when she saw her eldest sister showing off the aforementioned ring, and in her excitement, she forgot herself.

"Nice ring, sis!" she called, making her way to the cluster of seventh-year Slytherins.

When her sister turned around, Rolanda was struck by the severity of her mistake. She had never seen Pandora look so furious.

"How dare you speak to me! How dare you comment on my jewelry as if it concerned you!" she shrieked.

After years of being sneered at, something snapped. "I'm your goshdarn _sister!_ We're _family!_ How dare _you_!" Rolanda cried, even louder, pushing her way through the crowd to stand in front of Pandora.

Outraged, Pandora backhanded her sister across the face, her engagement ring cutting into Rolanda's cheek.

"Stupid _bint_. Do not address me as your equal again. In fact, don't talk to me again. Ever. _Some_ of us have a _reputation_ to uphold. You are but a mere chit of a girl. You are no sister of mine."

Rolanda didn't remember much after that. She remembered running as far as her feet could carry her. She remembered lying on the grass, the rain, her tears, and her blood melding together on her face. She remembered emptying the entire contents of her stomach on the lawn. She didn't remember what hurt more, her sister's ring or her words. She didn't remember how she ended up on the deserted Quidditch pitch.

When she realised where she was, she made to leave. A team could arrive to practice any second, and then they'd see her in this pitiful state. But then, she noticed something on the ground. It was a broomstick. A Silver Arrow broomstick. She couldn't explain why, but it called to her. She mounted it. She kicked off. She flew.

For the first time in her entire life, something felt right. She didn't know why, but she knew she was born to fly. With the wind in her hair and the rain in her face, soaring above the ground, everything made sense. In the air, she wasn't a failed pureblood. She wasn't the ugly sister. She wasn't that weak-willed cousin. She was just herself. And in that moment, feeling on top of the world, she knew that that was all she wanted to be. She knew that it was the only person she was meant to be, and she knew that it was the only person she could be. She wouldn't lose herself.

A week later, the Hufflepuff beater broke his arm. Rolanda knew it was her chance, her way of achieving her destiny. When the tryouts to replace him were held, she walked onto the pitch, defiant, broomstick in hand and head held high. The team captain, James Yale, quirked an eyebrow.

"Sweetie, are you lost?" he enquired condescendingly.

"Spare me your sexist comments. I'm here to try out."

He looked slightly bemused, his lips quirking into smile. "Very well. But you should know, Beaters are generally of the _stronger_ sex."

"What did I just say? Keep your misogynistic comments to yourself," she growled, surprised at how menacing her voice sounded.

He smirked and put his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, sweetie! You have one shot at this. Don't mess up."

He evidently thought she would. She didn't. He couldn't refuse her the position, and, albeit begrudgingly, he handed Rolanda her new Quidditch robes. Beaming, she made her way back to the castle. She took a shower, got dressed, and looked in the mirror.

She stared long and hard at her blemish-free face. Then, she muttered a spell under her breath. The glamour charms broke. A few freckles were scattered across her nose, and she decided she rather liked them. The deep gash in her cheek, however, was not quite as cute. Her sister's ring probably went back generations of Rosiers. It was a pureblood heirloom, and like most things that had been around a little too long, it was cursed. The cut wouldn't heal.

Rolanda had tried, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Episkey did nothing, wound-healing ointments merely burned, and the few counter-curses she knew only made it bleed. Glamour charms, at least, concealed it from the world. The Slytherins had not spoken of the incident, and she had been too humiliated to even think about sharing. But, that day, something was different. She was on her House Quidditch Team. She was good at something. She was _someone_. She felt confident. She knew what to do.

She walked into the Great Hall, head held high, gash on display for all to see. She walked towards her table, ignoring the curious stares, and slipped into the seat next to Jessica Brighton. Before the seventh-year could talk, however, Rolanda spoke.

"I wanted to apologise for my sister. You must hate me, thinking I'm just another Selwyn bully. But I'm nothing like them, trust me."

Jessica began to laugh. "Darling! You're a Hufflepuff, you couldn't be anything like Pandora! I mean that in the best way possible. She is not loyal, hardworking, forgiving or kind."

The younger girl let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. Potatoes?"

"Yes, please!" she said eagerly.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what happened to your cheek?" Jess asked as she passed the roast potato dish.

Rolanda gulped, but her voice was clear. "Pandora. Called her my sister in public."

Everyone at the table who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, which was a lot of people, gasped. But amid the cries of "What?", "How could she?" and "Absurd!", one voice stood out.

"Slytherins don't have the monopoly on revenge, you know."

Trademark Selwyn yellow eyes met startlingly blue ones, and a mischievous grin crept onto both girls' faces.

"I'm Lisbeth. Lisbeth Hooch. Fourth-year." said the blue-eyed, raven haired beauty.

"Nice to meet you. You mentioned revenge?" Rolanda enquired innocently.

"Indeed."

"Well?"

"We're going to remind her that Hufflepuffs are not to be trifled with."

"And how are we supposed to do that?"

Lisbeth smirked, gesturing to the sea of yellow and black clad students. "Anything is possible when you have an army at your disposal. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Hufflepuffs are not to be trifled with."

.oOo.

Hours later, all the badgers were assembled in their common room. Jessica cleared her throat.

"Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen. You are well aware why I have gathered you here today. One of ours has been wronged. She must be avenged."

A murmur of general assent went round the room. Jessica resumed her speech.

"The perpetrator of the crime is not unknown to us. Many of us have suffered at her hands. However, recognising her bullying as nothing more than her own insecurities and pettiness, we have risen above it. This time, she went too far. We will give her a taste of the humiliation and so-called pranks she has made us endure. I request any dissenters make themselves known."

Rolanda looked around the room, her eyes resting on Catheryne, Hestia and Prune. In turn, each of the three met her gaze, nodding ever so slightly. They were with her. Everyone in the room was. It moved Rolanda more than she could say. All these people, most of whom she had never spoken to, would support her through this. She wasn't alone.

Jessica seemed pleased, if unsurprised, at the absence of dissent. "Excellent! Now, our renowned Lisbeth Hooch would like to share her plan with us."

Lisbeth smirked. "Thank you, thank you. Now, let's show Hogwarts what we're made of."

.oOo.

The next day, the seventh-years taking N.E.W.T level potions were asked to brew a Pepperup Potion. At the end of the class, all but one of the students had submitted their vial to the Professor.

"Ms. Selwyn, could you explain to me why you were unable to brew a potion as simple as Pepperup?"

Pandora scowled. "I only followed the instructions. I didn't do anything wrong."

The Potions Master made her way to Pandora's cauldron. "Indeed. However, if I recall correctly, and I do, Pepperup Potion is supposed to be orange, not green." The Professor sniffed the potion. "Ms. Selwyn, why did you add Fluxweed to a Pepperup Potion, of all things?"

"I didn't!"

"Do you think it amuses me to go around accusing my students of adding ingredients to their potions? 10 points from Slytherin for blatant lies."

At the back of the classroom, Jessica Brighton smiled to herself.

As Pandora exited the dungeons, still scowling, a first-year Hufflepuff bumped into her, spilling his ink down the front of the Slytherin's robes.

"Oops!" he chirped, scurrying away before Pandora realised the ink was indelible.

Later on, a scream echoed through the corridors of Hogwarts. It was recognisable as a certain Selwyn's. Pandora had just found out her books had somehow been transfigured into spiders. Now, her satchel was overflowing with baby Acromantulas.

Over dinner, Rolanda sat down next to Lisbeth, who was muttering an incantation under her breath. Then, Pandora's long auburn curls turned into a nest of writhing snakes. The girl ran from the Great Hall in embarrassment.

"They won't bite her, unfortunately," Lisbeth apologised.

Rolanda smirked. "Maybe I'll give her one that will..."

She didn't, but only because Pandora seemed to have learnt her lesson. She now ignored any Hufflepuff she had the misfortune to cross paths with. In the meantime, Rolanda became something of a Quidditch star. Her expert beating had won Hufflepuff the Quidditch Cup for the first time in 23 years. Life was good for Rolanda.

.oOo.

However, things became much harder when school ended. Cressida, Dione, and Cantankerous had sided with Pandora, and the four of them refused to speak to Rolanda, who spent most of her summer locked in her room. At social gatherings, she simply let herself blend into the background. Her mother was most disappointed.

The walls in the Selwyn Manor were extremely thin, and Rolanda refused to give her sister the satisfaction of hearing her crying. She stayed strong, stifling her emotions for the entire holidays. However, by the time she got back to Hogwarts, she couldn't keep up the emotional barriers any longer.

She skipped the Start-Of-Term Feast, seeking refuge in the first-floor girls' bathroom instead. She sunk to the ground and cried. She cried until there were no more tears left to shed. She hated how much power her sister still had over her;in the end, after everything that had happened, a small part of Rolanda still longed for her family's acceptance.

Then, she heard the bathroom door creak open. Lisbeth appeared, holding ice cream in one hand and tissues in the other. She set both down on the cold tile floor before wrapping her arms around Rolanda, who poured her heart out. Lisbeth listened. After that, they were inseparable.

When Lisbeth joined the Quidditch Team and became the second beater, they worked miraculously well together. Whenever one of them needed a hand or a shoulder to cry on, the other was there. They formed a perfect team.

Their closeness didn't go unnoticed by Cressida, who had decided to emulate Pandora now that the latter had left. She was cold, haughty and self-righteous–a perfect Selwyn. After what happened to Pandora, Cressida knew better than to pick fights with Rolanda, but she shot daggers at her younger sister whenever she could. Rolanda noticed, though she pretended not to. It hurt just as much as Pandora's frigidity had.

One night, as Rolanda lay in bed, she grew nostalgic. She thought of days spent playing with her sisters in perfectly manicured gardens, she thought of days spent laughing with her sisters in immaculate drawing-rooms. _You don't miss those days_ , she told herself sternly. The tears that welled up in her eyes betrayed her. Before long, she was sobbing. She hated herself for caring so much, but she couldn't help it. In the end, she was only a frightened fourteen year old girl, and all she wanted was to be loved.

Soon, a warm body slipped into her bed, its voice calm and soothing. It was Lisbeth's, and she wrapped her strong arms around Rolanda's waist.

"Please don't cry," she pleaded, real pain in her voice. "I hate hearing you sob."

Slowly, Rolanda's tears subsided. Lisbeth made to get up, but the younger girl clutched onto her hand as if it were a lifeline. Lisbeth sunk back into the bed, and the two girls fell asleep side by side, fingers intertwined and heartbeats in sync.

.oOo.

Months passed and Rolanda found herself in her childhood home once again, surrounded by people who despised her. One evening, as she sat at the dinner table, Pandora, who was seated on her left side, elbowed her as she drank. Pumpkin juice spilled down her dress robes and her mother scowled.

"Rolanda! You are fifteen! A girl of your status should know how to dine!"

"Forgive her, Mother. She's a little soft in the head, after all. Classic Hufflepuff, you know," Pandora said sweetly.

"Your sister is no Hufflepuff, do not insult her. She is a Selwyn. The Sorting Hat simply made a mistake," her mother reprimanded.

Rolanda couldn't bear to hear her House talked about like that. "It didn't," she growled.

"Pardon?" her mother enquired, eyes glittering dangerously.

"Crazy, I tell you! That Mudblood Hooch is having a negative impact on her!"Pandora cried gleefully.

Rolanda rose from her seat, throwing her napkin onto her sister's lap. "Mother, I said that the Sorting Hat had put me in the right house. Sorry, but I'm a Hufflepuff through and through. Did I mumble?"

Her father rose as well, towering above her. "You shall not to speak to your mother in such a tone. You owe her respect, goddammit! She birthed you! We didn't raise you to be such an ungrateful bint!"

"Father, dear, you didn't raise me at all. The house-elves and governesses did. You never loved or respected me. I owe you nothing," Rolanda snarled.

Her father shook with rage at her insubordination. "Get. Out. Don't come back."

Rolanda smiled sweetly. "I already had one foot out the door."

Then, she ran, snatching her broomstick from the coatroom as she went. She mounted it and flew away from her childhood home, leaving all the memories where they belonged: in the past.

When she finally reached the Hooch residence, she located Lisbeth's bedroom and pounded on her window furiously. She was let in immediately by the raven-haired girl, whose bright blue eyes had a worried look in them.

"I left," Rolanda whispered.

Lisbeth gasped, wrapping her arms around her friend. "Well done. I'm so proud of you."

"Tha-Thank you."

Suddenly, the two girls' eyes met, and Rolanda could hear her heart pounding. As Lisbeth moved closer, her heart beat just as fast. Their lips were mere inches from each other when Lisbeth pulled away.

Rolanda looked hurt. "Why?"

Lisbeth bit her lip. "You're, well, you're a _Selwyn_. You're going to end up having to marry some rich pureblood, and I wouldn't want to ruin you."

"I already told you. I left. Besides, I know what my destiny is, and that's not it. I've discovered where I'm supposed to be, and that's by your side."

"I-I can't have you falling in love with a _Mudblood,_ " Lisbeth murmured, words catching in her throat.

Leaning in, Rolanda smirked. "It's a little late for that, I'm afraid."


End file.
